The World at War
by Sakura Tsukikage
Summary: Five short fics dealing with the years from 1935-1941, and focusing on America, England, and the Axis Powers.
1. Chapter 1

**Manchuria**

Rich country, strong army.

Something his people used to say, when he was working so hard to catch up with the others—America-san, golden and loud and always so forceful, England-san, arrogant and commanding and interested in Japan, Russia-san, always so demanding. He has that now. A rich country. He certainly has a strong army. Kiku fought hard and worked hard and he has proven himself, has he not?

He only wants what is best. He is still ignored in the meetings, his wishes rolled over by the other, louder nations (because he is soft-spoken and polite? But how else would one behave?), and he sees the same thing happen to China and Taiwan and Thailand and the others, his brothers and sisters he did not speak with for so long. He knows he is the strange brother, the quiet one, but he does care for his family. Like a good son, a good sibling (Yao-niisama taught him about that, when he was still too young to know how to behave properly, about the importance of family). Yao-niisama is older, and he admires him so much, but now Japan knows he is the strong one. He has shown the world the strength of Asia, of their family. He defeated Russia-san, after all, did he not?

The others were not happy, when he did that, and Japan had been confused, because he was only proving that he was strong, and they had said they wanted to help Japan become strong. It was nothing different from what they did.

Japan likes Alfred-san and Arthur-san. Very much. (He isn't so sure about Ivan-san.) But he feels like they don't see him, and there are things he . . . that he is not entirely satisfied with.

Things that he wants.

He wants them to stop ignoring him and China-niisama and the others when they ask for things. He wants his own voice to mean something. He is tired of their family being ignored and overlooked and . . . and used, whenever the Westerners want something. Used and left out and taken advantage of. He wants to help, but he wants them to help him in return, and not as an excuse to press him for favors. Japan is very obliging, he wants to be, he works at it, but he doesn't want to be part of Russia-san's house, or America-san's, or England-san's, or anyone's. He is Japan, the land where the sun rises, and he is old and strong and honorable. He has tried asking, and his requests are always ignored.

So Japan will keep working, and fighting. This is for the best. He is the strong one, after all. He will do this for all of Asia, and it will hurt, at first. It is hurting him now, just as it is hurting China-niisama. He knows it will. But then they will see. They will all see.

He will be a good brother. Later. But he has to be an _oni_ now.

Finis.

**Historical Notes:**

1. Rich country, strong army--富國强兵, or in romaji, fukoku kyōhei. This was Japan's national slogan during the Meiji period (186801912), replacing the slogan of sonnō jōi , or "Revere the Emperor, Expel the Barbarians," which had been popular during the end of the Edo period, Japan's time of national isolation. It entailed using Western systems to overhaul Japanese policy and laid the foundation for the Japanese military to become as strong as it did so quickly.

2. Confucianism, originating in China, teaches the importance of familial ties, especially those to the father and older siblings. Japan became very Confucianized, following the example of China. Neo-Confucian philosophies were especially popular during the Edo period, and experienced something of a revival in the rhetoric of the Japanese fascists.

3. An oni is an ogre, a demon, in Japanese folklore.


	2. Chapter 2

**Battle of Britain**

It's gotten to the point that he can't actually remember the last time he's slept the night through.

_All right, Arthur_, he thinks, wearily, his mind a blurry whirl from exhaustion and pain and the strain of it all. His chest is burning, and it's as if he can't quite get the air he needs to keep breathing. _Come now, old boy. Stiff upper lip and all that. Can't give up now, can we? Terrible bad form, that._

_Oh, shut it_, he answers himself. _Don't be such a bloody tosser._ Old men, old guard, old man. No time for high tea any longer. He groans and presses the heels of his hands into his eyes.

They'll be back tonight, and he already feels like he can't take anymore. Burning, tearing, fiery pain, exploding down his nerve endings. His men, his women, his children, his people . . . every part of him is pain.

_Moving on past that, Art, old chap._ Because he can. He knows he can. He's old enough and he's strong enough and does Germany _really_ think that this will be enough to do for him?

And he's tired, and he can't hardly breathe, and every bomb that falls buries into him and burns and tears pieces from him. London, he thinks. London, his heart. But he won't let it end like this. He'll stand and he'll stand, even if it's the last, the only, thing he can do, and he'll fight in the skies, because he is the United Kingdom, he is Great Britain, and he is _not_ going to bend to a German upstart, and no German force will ever take British land and British soil, will never have _any part _of him, even if he has to stand alone, because he's always stood alone. Hail Britannia.

The sirens are going off again, and Arthur is running despite the burning pain in his chest and lungs and the hot bright agony flaring up one leg. Bombs in Coventry. Helmet, flight gear—another night, and he'll be up there with them, his people, his boys. He won't falter and he won't fail. Even in their—his—their—darkest hour, he'll be up there. Save as many as he can.

He imagines—or sees—unicorns and lions, faeries and leprechauns, behind him in the dark. He won't fail them, either. Won't fail any of them. Hail Britannia, he thinks again. No fear.

Finis.

**Historical Notes:**

1. The Battle of Britain was the effort by the German Air Force to achieve tactical air superiority over Britain's Royal Air Force. It took place over the summer and autumn of 1940. It was the largest and most sustained bombing campaign ever attempted up to that point, the objective being the surrender of British forces.

2. The Blitz is the term used for the bombing of Britain by Nazi Germany. It started with the bombing of London for fifty-seven consecutive nights.

3. "The Darkest Hour" was a phrase used by Winston Churchill in describing the period between the fall of France and the Nazi invasion of Russia, when in Europe Britain was the only one opposing Nazi Germany, especially the time when the United Kingdom was under direct threat of invasion following the evacuation of the British army from Dunkirk.

4. Arthur is altering the famous poem/song "Rule Britannia" for his own purposes, not feeling much like a ruler at the moment.


	3. Chapter 3

**Lend-Lease**

He knows his boss will have already heard the radio broadcasts, but he makes him listen to them again. "He's being so brave," he says, aching. "Listen to what they're doing to him, Frank! And he isn't giving an inch." He jumps up, paces back and forth, his dogtags thumping against his chest. He's been flying a lot lately. He's gone over to Britain and flown there, but it's not enough, it won't ever be enough, and the last time he saw Arthur he'd been so worn and tired and ragged, his eyes haunted and exhausted like he hadn't slept in weeks, and he couldn't say anything because he was pretending to be Matt (and that fools people for about five seconds after he actually opens his mouth). "Let's go, come on, let's go. We'll show that bastard Hitler how awesome we are, what we can do!"

"I thought you were tired, Al," his boss says, sounding strained, but tolerantly amused. "I thought you couldn't handle another war, this soon. I thought you wanted to focus on your own problems."

America shifts uncomfortably, shoves his hands in his pockets and rocks back and forth on his heels—"I did," he says reluctantly. "I mean, I do—" But then he thinks of England, battered—hell, bombs _every night_, falling on London, how that must be hurting him, how he refuses to give in or give up or even flinch nonetheless, thinks about Dunkirk.

Thinks about how much he wants to be there.

He slams his fist into his palm. "There's gotta be something we can do," he says desperately.

And his boss says, "Actually, I do have a plan."

Finis.

**Historical Notes:**

1. The Lend-Lease Agreement was the name of the program by which America supplied the Allies with vast amounts of war material between 1941 and 1945, chiefly to Britain.

2. American pilots in the RAF before America's entry into the war (of which there were only a very few) often claimed they were Canadian to disguise their illegal involvement in the conflict against the policy of their government.

3. American isolationism led to America being slow to enter World War II outside of trade sanctions on Japan and aid to China. America's first aid to the Allies was the Lend-Lease agreement with Britain.

4. The evacuation at Dunkirk was the evactuation of Allied forces from the beaches of Dunkirk in France between May 26 and June 4 1940, when British, French, and Canadian troops were cut off by the German Army. From Wikipedia: "On the first day only 7,010 men were evacuated but by the ninth day a total of 338,226 soldiers — 198,229 British and 139,997 French were rescued by the hastily assembled fleet of 850 boats. Many of the troops were able to embark from the harbour's protective mole onto 42 British destroyers and other large ships, while others had to wade from the beaches toward the ships, waiting for hours to board, shoulder deep in water. Others were ferried from the beaches to the larger ships, and thousands were carried back to England, by the famous "little ships of Dunkirk", a flotilla of around 700 merchant marine boats, fishing boats, pleasure craft and Royal National Lifeboat Institution lifeboats — the smallest of which was the 15-foot fishing boat, Tamzine, now in the Imperial War Museum — whose civilian crews were called into service for the emergency."

5. American sympathies for Britain began to grow due to radio broadcasts narrating the Blitz and the courage and stoicism of the British people in facing it.

6. Yes, that is Franklin Delano Roosevelt that America is calling Frank. What can you do? He's America.


	4. Chapter 4

**Afrika Corps**

"I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorryI'msorryI'msorry!"

Germany sighs, puts his hands on his hips, looks down at Italy, and resists the desire to tear out his hair. "Stop apologizing," he orders.

It takes a minute or so, while Germany stands there and waits and frowns, but Italy does, eventually, stop. After which instead of babbling he just stands there, holding one arm to his chest and wobbling on his feet. There are tears in his eyes as he looks up at Germany. There is sand in his hair, also. Germany almost asks how it got there before he realizes that it's probably better for the ache starting to throb in his temples if he doesn't know the full details of Italy's retreat into Libya.

Germany takes a deep breath. "Tell me," he says, "what happened. Start from the beginning."

It takes a very long time, but in the end Germany has the vague idea that England is frightening and strong and has gigantic eyebrows and that the retreat had been messy. He is also clear on the following facts: Italy had been terrified and is very glad to see Germany and that his leg hurts very much and that he's hungry, and he would like to know if Germany has water for pasta (the answer is no), and that he's afraid his arm might be broken, and that he's very sorry because he would have liked to impress Germany.

Germany is getting a headache. And he is not impressed. But he is beginning to feel rather guilty, even though Italy had gone charging off largely on his own this time. He even wishes he could offer Italy some water for pasta. But he can't.

He steps forward and brushes Italy's other hand away from his injured arm. It doesn't look broken, merely bruised and possibly rather badly sprained. It is swollen, and streaked with sweat and sand. Italy has, Germany thinks, been trying, after all. His hair, too, is wet with sweat. Even if he did mostly work up all that perspiration by running. "It is not broken," he says.

"Oh." Italy blinks. "Yay!" He tries to throw his arms up in the air, but Germany keeps careful hold of the injured one.

"It is probably sprained," he says, probing gently along the swollen flesh with his thumb and pressing. Tears start in Italy's eyes again.

"Owowowowowow," he whimpers.

"Easy," Germany says. "I will take care of it." He runs one hand up into Italy's sweaty hair and pushes it back off his face and says, "I will take care of it."

"I knew you would!" Italy bursts out, and everything about him seems to brighten. He throws his good arm around Germany and squeezes (he'd have hugged him with the injured arm, too, if Germany had let go of it). "I can always count on you, Germany!"

And, Germany thinks, (he is not leaning into the hug, he _is not_, it's just . . . Italy's arm just happens to be around him, that is all, and it's a waste of energy to shrug it off) it's almost worth it.

Finis.

**Historical Notes:**

1. The German Afrikacorps was the original German blocking force in Libya and Tunisia during the North African Campaign of World War II. It became the main German contribution to Panzer Army Africa, which evolved into the German-Italian Panzer Army and Army Group Africa.

2. The North African Campaign obviously took place in North Africa, mostly in Libya and Tunisia. From Wikipedia: "Fighting in North Africa started with the Italian declaration of war on 10 June 1940. On 14 June, the British Army's 11th Hussars (assisted by elements of the 1st Royal Tank Regiment) crossed the border into Libya and captured the Italian Fort Capuzzo. This was followed by an Italian offensive into Egypt and then in December 1940 by a Commonwealth counteroffensive, Operation Compass. During Operation Compass, the Italian Tenth Army was destroyed and the German Afrika Korps, commanded by Field Marshal Erwin Rommel, was dispatched to North Africa, during Operation Sonnenblume, to bolster the Italian forces and prevent a complete Axis defeat." Oh, Italy.


	5. Chapter 5

**Eagle Squadron**

He lands and vaults out of his plane, and he's yanking off his helmet and fumbling with his flight gear and looking around him all at once, trying to take everything in and trembling in a kind of frenzied excitement, coming down off the rush and the high and _finally being here_.

He sees England coming toward him, still in his own flight gear, his eyebrows all knotted up and his shoulders tight like he's about to start hollering. "What the bloody hell do you think you're—" England starts, and America grins, because he's got a feeling what's coming next.

England just stops, and his mouth snaps shut, and he swallows, and then he says, all quiet and unsure, "America?"

There's a bruise on England's cheek and deep violet shadows under his eyes like bruises, his lip's been split and scabbed over, he's awful thin beneath the gear that makes anyone look bulky, and his hair's all tousled, and, despite his buttoned-up uniform, he doesn't look anything like the stuffy stuck-up autocratic imperialist America can't help thinking of him as, still. But America's changed a heck of a lot, and he guesses this's a reminder that sure enough England has too.

"Come on!" America says, and flings his arms wide. "Aren't you happy to see me? Wasn't I great up there, England? Wasn't I awesome?"

"What are you doing here?" England says, his eyes gone all big, so green and shadowed and tired. "I thought—you've been saying you weren't coming, America."

"Got nothing to do with _America_," America says, and winks. "This's _me_. Airman Alfred F. Jones, at your service, England, sir." That squares England's shoulders right back up, and his chin rises, and America feels a rush of warmth 'cause that means he _is_ helping. "Only for the moment," he hastens to add. "Don't get any big"—by which he means old, out-of-date, colonial "—ideas now."

England sighs, and it's a shaky sigh, gone all trembly with relief. "I wouldn't dream of it."

America grins at him. Jiminy, it's good to see him, alive at least, if not exactly well. "So!" he says. "Can't stay for all that long, but for now, I'm your very own American hero, in the flesh. Just point me at 'em and your troubles'll be over!"

"Good lord," England says, "what a load of rubbish," but his mouth's gone all relaxed in the way he _doesn't quite_ smile sometimes, and America can't stop smiling himself. Well, y'know, he can smile enough for the both of 'em.

Finis.

**Historical Notes:**

1. The Eagle Squadrons were fighter squadrons of the Royal Air Force formed during World War II with volunteer pilots from the United States. While many US recruits simply crossed the border and joined the Royal Canadian Air Force learn to fly and fight, many of the early recruits had originally come to Europe to fight for Finland against the Soviets in the Winter War. The first Eagle Squadron was formed in September 1940, and became operational for defensive duties on 5 February 1941. The three Eagle Squadrons were numbered 71, 121, and 133. Of the thousands that volunteered, 244 Americans served with the three Eagle Squadrons; 16 Britons acted as Squadron and Flight commanders. Through September 1942, the squadrons claimed to have destroyed 73½ German planes while 77 American and 5 British members were killed. 71 Squadron claimed 41 kills, 121 Squadron 18 kills, and 133 squadron 14½ kills. (Most of this information from Wikipedia, which I admit I have abused in these notes).


End file.
